If someone would like a mirror that insists on telling the truth, I have one for sale.

Nobody enjoys privacy more than Yours Truly. I confess I am not a very
happy camper when that privacy is compromised in any fashion. Recently,
I endured a tremendous trespass on my privacy.
One day last week, I got up as usual and tottered off to the bathroom
for my accustomed bathroom routine. It was then I got the shock of my
life of which I am not over as of yet. I am sure this experience will
be with me many years down the road. I am not sure I need counseling,
but maybe a day or two at a rehab center just might do the trick.
I confess that I am not at my best early in the morning prior to my
bathroom ritual. As far as I am concerned, the bathroom is a sacred
place of refuge before facing the world. It is a place where I can
prepare myself to meet the world as well as prepare for the world to
meet me. It would be a great travesty for me to plunge myself out into
the unsuspecting world before going into my bathroom and making certain
preparations. I owe the world at least this.
Of course, with all the political nonsense the world has imposed upon me
lately, I am tempted to thrust myself out into the world without any
preparations whatsoever. That would teach the world to mess with me. On
second thought, too many innocent bystanders would get hurt in the
process.
On the day in question, not only was I unprepared to meet the world but
I was unprepared to meet my bathroom. Looking back on the situation, I
do vaguely remember the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage mentioning
something to the fact that she made certain changes in my bathroom.
Obviously, I was preoccupied with other things to be concerned about
this wee bit of information she laid upon me at the time. I simply
assumed she was talking about waxing the floor or changing the shower
curtain. Never in my wildest dreams did I think she would do anything
as drastic as she did.
This brings me to an important point; never underestimate the damage a
wife can do to the sacred places of her husband.
When I walked into my bathroom and switched on the light, I had the
shock of my life. I looked in the mirror, as normal and looking back at
me was the most frightful thing I have ever seen. I thought for a
moment Stephen King had sabotaged my bathroom.
The face looking back at me was old and haggard, desperately needing a
shave. The bags under his eyes looked like sacks of potatoes and what
little hair he had looked like the aftermath of a suicide bomber. I
wanted to call the police, but I was too paralyzed with fear.
I must have yelled or something because my wife came running into the
bathroom and asked, "What's wrong?"
Then she did something that infuriated me even more than I was at the
time.
She laughed.
I do not mind people laughing when I tell a joke or a funny story.
However, when I have just been frightened out of my mind, I do not
appreciate the levity. Then she explained to me what had happened. My
wife took it upon herself to replace the mirror in my bathroom.
For a fleeting moment, murderous thoughts stomped through my mind.
Fortunately, for me they were still wearing their bedroom slippers and
not their marching boots.
I do not look forward to very much in life, but I do look forward to my
mirror in my bathroom. I have had that mirror for as long as I can
remember, which may not be a very long time when I come to think of it.
I vaguely remember hearing my wife mentioned the fact that the mirror
in my bathroom needed to be replaced. I thought she was kidding.
When I get up in the morning, I look forward to going into my bathroom
mirror. I have a little ritual I do upon first glance into my mirror.
"Mirror, mirror on my wall; who needs a shave the worst of all?" Then
we have a good laugh together.
I know that my mirror, my old mirror, that is, was rather old and flawed
and the reflection back at me was rather blurry. That is what made it
so endearing to me. No matter how hard you tried to clean it the
reflection was still very cloudy at best. Then, several years ago an
accident occurred producing a small crack in my mirror. I must say it
was an improvement I gladly accepted. It accommodated my split
personality: Sometimes I feel like a nut, and sometimes I don't feel
anything. One morning I could shave on the left side of the crack and
the next morning I could shave on the right side.
The thing I loved about my old mirror was how it clouded the truth. The
new mirror, however, is very insistent upon the truth.
A verse of Scripture came to mind as I pondered my old mirror. "For now
we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in
part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." (1 Corinthians
13:12).
If someone would like a mirror that insists on telling the truth, I have
one for sale.
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